


Demon Days

by Jenthetrulysly



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Slash, Psychological Torture, Psychotropic Drugs, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenthetrulysly/pseuds/Jenthetrulysly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny didn't know how much more of this he could take. He had been on the razor edge of exhaustion for far too long now, and it was really starting to show. He craved that fathomless darkness, where he wouldn't be able to feel or think or hurt anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the land of the blind the one eyed man is king...

Danny didn't know how much more of this he could take. He had been on the razor edge of exhaustion for far too long now, and it was really starting to show. He craved that fathomless darkness, where he wouldn't be able to feel or think or hurt anymore.

He groaned as he was bodily thrown to the ground. Every muscle and bone in his body screamed out in excruciating agony, and  _that_  was saying something. As Second-In-Command of Five O he was used to the bumps and bruises and concussions and gunshots that often came his way, but this, this was a completely different thing in an entire class of its own. Even that time when Auston shot him paled to this, and it wouldn't take much before he succumbed to the darkness that was slowly creeping up at the corner of his eyes. At least then he could have some respite from all this pain, which made him feel like he was burning alive.  

He landed in a heap on the soiled mattress on the basement floor face down, trying hard not to breathe in the stench of blood and sweat and sex embedded there. He turned his face to the side and opened one eye to see the shadow of his tormentor looming over him. Panic rushed through his body as the adrenaline surged, doing its best to try and get him up on his feet. His mind and instincts were telling him to make a break for the door, or to put up some sort of struggle, fight back.

However, given his battered and bruised condition, fight or flight was out of the question. He felt really dizzy from the large lump at the back of his head, where his tormentor had struck him originally to subdue him, force him into compliance. Not to mention his mind felt disconnected from his body, undoubtedly due to the massive amount of drugs his tormentor had been pumping into his system ever since he had been captured. At the moment there was a twenty second time delay between thought and action, which was very, very dangerous given his current predicament.

The best thing for him at the moment would be to go along with whatever this sadist had in mind, try to appease him, get the man to let his guard down and relax.  Then  Danny could make a break for it, or at the least find a way to get into contact with Five-O and Steve, who would undoubtedly be scouring the islands looking for him right now.  In his current condition, there was no way that he could fight the man.

His train of thought was derailed when he felt a rough hand grab his tender shoulder and yank him onto his back. He couldn't help the moan of pain at the movement, which caused intense pain to flare on his right hand side, as he rolled over. At the very least, he had a badly bruised rib. The detective shivered as he felt the mattress dip and warmth radiate off the other man's skin as he settled down next to Danny.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"HPD have reported no sightings of Danny in the past twenty four hours anywhere on Oahu," Chin said, then added, "my sources don't know anything about Danny's disappearance…no one's out for his blood, no contracts on him either."

"What about the PDs on the other islands?" Steve snapped back, stepping behind his office chair to lean against the wall and look out the window. "Any instances of anyone fitting Danny's description turning up at the airports whatsoever?" 

"None Boss" Kono said sadly, "they have orders to stop an' pick up anyone matching Danny's description. So far no one like dat has turned up."

Chin shook his head, "it's been five days and they would have made their move, gotten Danny off Oahu by this stage. Nah, he's still on this island."

"I'm goin' down ta visit Che, see if he's got any aces up his sleeve for us," Kono announced, waiting for Steve's minute nod before ambling out of the room.

Steve was very close to throwing something heavy at the wall at the way this investigation was going nowhere. He had never been this angry before, in either his personal life or his working life. That time when Wo Fat had been traded for that American pilot captured in China right under his nose, just when he had him didn't compare to this. He ground his teeth in irritation as he stalked outside into the afternoon sun, and took several deep breaths, grabbing the smooth wrought iron of the railing between his hands.

It had been five days since the last reported sighting of Danny at the North Shore by some of the local beach bums there. They weren't exactly the world's most reliable witnesses but in this case he knew that they were telling the truth. It would make no sense for them to hide their knowledge of where Danny was. The man had disappeared without a trace.

The lead detective knew that something was very wrong when Danny had not turned up for work the following day. The younger detective was very punctual and would always give very advanced notice of any deviation from his usual  _modus operandi_.

Coming out onto the lanai in these stressful times often helped to calm him down and to temporarily clear away the fog of tiredness that nothing but sleep could get rid of.  But it did nothing for him today, because it conjured up past happy memories of being with Danny, discussing case aspects as they basked in the glorious warmth of the Hawaiian sun. The dark haired detective's grip around the railing got much tighter, as his knuckles turned bright white.

From the inside he could hear Chin's footsteps approaching as he walked out to the lanai, before a warm, pudgy hand settled down on Steve's shoulder. This caused him to turn around and fix his piercing dark blue gaze on the Oriental detective, before catching the note of concern there.

"We'll find Danny, Steve. Don't worry."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Danny very badly wanted to shy away from the foreign touch, which made him feel horribly dirty in ways he didn't want to think about, shuddering as those ghostly yellow fingers trailed a mock caress up the side of his neck, pausing by his mouth to run over his lips and down his chin. Wide blue eyes watched as the man lifted his fingers, which were shining with Danny's blood up to the dim light, admiring the stark fresh crimson. He twisted his hand to admire the blood for a few moments before running it across one of Danny's badly swollen and lacerated cheeks. In any other situation, the move would be considered tender, but not here.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look, aikane, when you are like this..." he whispered loud enough only for Danny to hear.

"I'm not your aikane!" Danny retorted hotly. All that earned him was another backhand across his jaw, which stung more than it should. He gasped in pain as his tormentor lifted a leg over Danny's torso and straddled him, putting uncomfortable pressure on his lower body. It wouldn't take long before discomfort would turn into outright pain, and he was nearly past the point of endurance. He wasn't sure he could handle anymore. There was pain everywhere and it wouldn't take much for him to get overwhelmed.

The darkness of unconsciousness was looking very inviting now; anything to get away from this.  The fiend was using his knees to squeeze Danny's sides gently. The move almost caused the detective to howl with pain, confirming that at least one of his ribs was cracked, sending waves of dull pain across his body. He gasped as the pressure got stronger and began to squirm, to try and get the man on top of him to stop. When it became unbearable, he writhed and squirmed, trying to alleviate the pain that was building steadily. The stronger man's hands pinned Danny's shoulders and he leaned forward, totally restricting movement. He had no choice but to stay there panting harshly and blinking the sweat away from his eyes as he struggled to stay alert and wary. He could feel his consciousness slipping.

Danny flinched when he felt those vile fingers cup the side of his swollen cheek again, just under where those same fingers had traced a line of blood there earlier. Warmth radiated from the palm of his hand, but there was no comfort in this. Those usually clear blue eyes shone with wariness, as they remained transfixed on the figure above.

"Oh, you still have a spark in you." He removed his hand and lay it just where Danny's heart would be under the torn and bloodstained shirt, where it was hammering at a speed that was making him feel giddy and lightheaded. Dan wasn't sure if this was because of the elevated blood pressure or the fact that he had been here…heck, he didn't even know how long he had been confined to this dingy place. There were no windows or clocks; there was no possible way to tell the time. It had taken on some sort of weird non-meaning. He didn't know whether he had been here for a few hours or a few days. The more time that passed though, the less likely Steve would be able to find him.

_Steve_.

Fear seized his heart in a vice like grip when he was faced with the very real possibility that Steve might not make it in time. He was at the mercy of this sadist unable to defend himself, each move of resistance costing precious strength. He had been beaten to within an inch of consciousness; deep purple bruises bloomed on his skin, like so many spots of paint on an artist's canvas. As if  _he_ was this sadist's canvas, free to rip, tear, mark and burn as pleased.

His resistance was making him weak, chipping away gradually at what remained of his strength. The body was more likely to give up, long before the mind ever did. Hunger gnawed a hole at the pit of his stomach, where the acid threatened to burn its way through the lining if he didn't eat anything soon. He knew that all food and water offered to him was drugged to the nines, could sniff out the strong chemical smell hidden behind the tantalizing aromas of spices, so refused to eat because of the cost. His lips were dry with a nasty crack splitting the hardened skin, the faint coppery tang of his own blood never too far. His throat was in no better shape; parched dry and screamed hoarse.

Horror wormed its way right down into every fiber of Danny's being when his tormentor licked his lips and mused softly, "I can already tell that you are going to be my favorite yet. I've always wondered if blondes were better."

Danny hoped against hope that this was all a bad dream that he could just wake up from, but the constant throbbing of pain everywhere convinced him otherwise. The blessed darkness was out of reach now, and could offer him no comfort; no more than the thought that Steve would come for him, which rapidly diminished with each passing moment.


	2. Dreams of Shattered Silences

_  
_

_Six…seven…eight._

There were exactly eight white ceiling tiles on the ceiling. He counted eight just then and there were eight yesterday as well. Danny heaved a massive sigh and winced as his ribs protested the large intake of musty air. He coughed slightly and gulped, wishing for some fresh water to drink and some water to clean his wounds. On the low side table next to the filthy mattress there was a small bowl of what looked like broth and bread long gone cold and stale respectively, as well as a small pitcher of tepid water and a plastic cup. 

He tried to avoid eating and drinking what was given to him because they were laced to the nines with sedatives and what he assumed to be strong psychotic drugs. Given he was constantly on the edge of hunger and exhaustion the effects of the drugs were undoubtedly amplified. He had succumbed to bodily needs for food and water some time ago and even now, an indefinite period of time later, he felt lethargic and heavy limbed, every movement a struggle. His sleep was restless, the dreams more lucid and real, almost tangible. Often he woke up with the phantom taste of salt on his tongue and the fresh air from the North Shore in his lungs.  

It brought tears to his eyes because the dreams were so real. He could feel everything in minute detail, from the individual grains of white sand between his toes to the warmth of the sun on his back. They caused him to question whether this was all a bad nightmare he was yet to wake up from. He was cognizant of the fact that the drugs were wreaking havoc on his body in more ways than one, such as causing muscle cramping and shakes, so it was also likely that they were given to him with the purpose of undermining his mental faculties. They were working very well, because the boundary between reality and hallucination was rapidly being blurred.

The wide abundance of drugs in use told him that his captor had ready access to powerful ones and could acquire them without suspicion. The detective suspected that the man held some sort of healthcare job, and managed to narrow down the field to either being a doctor or pharmacist. In the deepest, darkest part of himself though, he wondered why he still bothered. It was clear that Steve was not going to get to him in time. He was too well hidden, and the Head of Five-O clearly had no idea where he was.

When his thoughts were not locked in this rapid descent into madness, he spent most of his days playing detective with all the little clues he had been left with, trying desperately to search for anything that could help him get out of here or at the very least identify his captor. Even after all this time he was still grasping at straws. The man who kept him was either very clever or had done this countless times before. His detective instincts told him that the sadist had done this before and given the bloody state of that mattress, more than a couple of times. The thought caused a strong shiver of both fear and revulsion to course through his body.

When that became frustrating, he would just shut his eyes and let his exhaustion and whatever drugs he had ingested sweep him away from the current circumstances into something less painful, less crushing.

There was pitch-black darkness as he forced his breathing to even out, before the scene shifted and morphed right in front of him into something so familiar and comforting, that he couldn’t help the bubble of happiness that welled up inside him, overwhelming the plethora of constant hunger, pain and doubt there.

_The sun was glorious as always and there was a gentle breeze, helping to cool things down just a bit. Dan was out for his morning surf and spiked the surfboard onto the dry sand before taking a few moments to survey the scene in front of him._

_The North Shore really was the place to be._

_He had always loved the ocean, smiling at the pleasant memories of Aunt Clara that it summoned, of her gently chiding voice saying how he was part merman, given the way that he was always in the ocean, having a good time. That love had continued all the way into adulthood, and there were no signs of abatement anytime soon._

_The constraints of his job had prevented him from coming out here at any other time but it also allowed him to revel in the magnificent beauty of the pristine white sand underneath his feet and the azure blue waters of the ocean, which bordered on sea-foam green, on certain days. At this hour there was no one on this beach, except for the local beach bums, who were nowhere in sight at the moment. He took a few moments to look for them, scanning the surrounding sand and the thick area of underbrush and bushes. Squinting, he could make out the outline of bodies underneath the thick cover of foliage and rock on the left hand side of the beach._

_Concerned, he approached the bushes, and dread welled up inside him when he saw the sight of two of the local beach bums lying on their sides. Bruises covered their bodies and their shirts and shorts were ripped. He flipped Maki onto his back before gently shaking him._

_“Maki! Hey! Wake up!” It was then that the detective noticed the ring of bruising just where his carotid artery would be._

_They both needed help but it was obvious that Johnny needed it more urgently. Danny flipped him over on his side to see the telltale purple bruising around it. He felt along the tanned column of flesh for a pulse, which was weak and sluggish at best. The sooner he could get an ambulance out here, the better. Johnny’s skin was too cold and clammy for comfort._

_Dan ran back to his car and flipped open the door; he had just picked up the radio handset when he heard it._

_“I’ve been waiting... you kept me waiting for a long time.”_

_Before he could whip around, he felt a thick rope slide along his neck and pull backwards. He dropped the mouthpiece and raised his hands to the material to try and relieve the pressure on his neck. It was definitely very thick nylon rope. Stars winked before his eyes as his feet stretched and kicked out, struggling to get away from the rope._

_His neck was digging into the seat and the pressure was getting stronger with each passing moment. He gasped for air uselessly as his fingers scrabbled at the rope. He could feel his heart racing at a thousand miles an hour as blood and air were choked off, and spots of darkness began to appear behind his closed eyes. Blood rushed and thundered past his ears._

_“Don’t fight it anymore, babe,” that soft male voice said again._

_Dan clenched his teeth and fought back as hard as he could as his head began to spin and a wave of nausea washed over him. He finally succumbed to the lack of air, but not before a horrible wave of cold dread and terror sunk down into his very soul._

He gasped as his eyes snapped open and for a few moments he struggled limply on the cold stone floor, fighting to remember that he wasn’t in driver’s seat of his sedan anymore, nor was there a rope pressed against his throat. He lifted a hand to run along the swollen and heated flesh of his neck where that rope had dug in, grimacing at how tender it was. Disorientated, he looked around madly, truly believing that this was a dream and that he was still on the beach when reality hit him with more force that slamming into a brick wall at full speed.

This was now his reality - and it would keep being his reality until he could escape into his world of dreams, or wake up. Rescue was looking unlikely as time marched slowly on, so he only had himself to rely on now, and his chances were minimal at best. He was more likely to die at the hands of this madman than save himself, given his current state.

He was _here_ , wherever that happened to be, and his days were reduced to counting the number of tiles on the ceiling, over and over again, until the door opened and he was left hating himself even more.  

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“Mrs. Jenkins, your prescription is ready...”

The woman peered up owlishly from her glasses before recognizing that her name was being called out. She grasped her cane in her left hand and pulled herself into an upright position and slowly started hobbling towards the front counter where the pharmacist stood with her medication, a warm smile plastered on his face. It was a few moments before she reached the cash register. If the name plaque on the wall behind the cash register was to be believed, his name was James Gates.  

“ Can you throw in a box of aspirin, sonny? I’ve run out at home,” Mrs. Jenkins croaked, grinning.

“Sure thing,” the brown haired man turned around to seize a packet off the shelf and added it to her basket of drugs. “Was there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, Jim, but did you make sure my heart pills are in there? I can’t leave without my heart pills,” the woman rambled, as she braced her wrinkled hand onto the counter for support, “oh and these as well please.” She reached underneath the counter and grabbed a bag of jellybeans, before throwing them onto the counter.

“Now you know you can’t have too many of those, Mrs. Jenkins. Dr Wilkinson will not be happy,” his face was arranged into an expression of mock disapproval, yet he added the sugary candy to the woman’s carry bag. 

“Yes, I know. You don’t let me have any fun at all,” she was mock pouting, a smile breaking through her face, before she declared softly, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re like a son to me...” 

“I only try my best, Mrs. Jenkins,” James said benignly, before looking at the cash register display. “That will be $4.02.”

As Mrs. Jenkins fished for some money from her purse, her hands shaking slightly, James held out his hand for her to place the money in, and pushed her bag of goods towards her. He caught a glance at the clock inside the dispensary, which was 17 minutes off of 5pm – closing time. He said ‘thank you’ politely as she handed him the money before ducking his head down to get her change.

“Are you doing anything exciting tonight? Perhaps taking your girlfriend out for dinner and a picture?” she asked mischievously.

“No, nothing like that,” he responded, as he handed back her change. He watched her pocket it for a few moments before continuing, “I need to get back home to look after my new puppy. He’s still in the housebreaking stage, chewing through the shoes and things like that.”

She giggled, “He sounds like a naughty boy indeed. The same one that gave you all those scratches on your hand?” her gaze flicked down onto James’ hands, which were covered in bandages. They covered deep scratches on both hands. “You should teach him some discipline, show him who’s master.”

“All in time,” he responded cheerfully, “but first I will have to cut his claws; they’re very sharp.” 

He paused for a moment to change the subject.

“Are you doing anything special tonight? Will Harvey be coming over to visit you with Kimberly?” 

Mrs. Jenkins took her bag of medication and pushed her glasses up, as they had slipped down from the bridge of her nose. Her voice suddenly lost all vestiges of lighthearted humor. “No, that useless son of mine is going out with his new girlfriend, and Kimberly is staying with her Mum.” 

“More time for yourself then,” James replied indulgently, “now have a good weekend, and I shall see you soon.”

“Good luck with the puppy? What’s his name?”

James contemplated this question before deciding to answer her truthfully. It couldn’t hurt because she was likely to forget this entire meeting took place by the following day. Her memory was like a sieve.

"His name is Danny."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“It’s bad, bruddah,” Duke said, shaking his head, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

McGarrett cautiously peeled off the white sheet covering the body of the latest murder victim.

“My God,” the detective gasped. He had to suppress a shiver of revulsion as the morning sunlight illuminated her face, making her look oddly peaceful. Beneath the thick veil of makeup they could make out the raised edges of barely scabbed over scars marring her face. Seeing enough, he pulled the sheet over her face, until only the tips of her ratted and knotty sandy blonde hair were the only parts visible.

“Have Che and the lab boys been over all of this?” the dark haired detective asked.

“He’s coming as soon as he can. We cordoned off the surrounding area, not that we need to.”

Duke was right. They were in a seldom-ventured into area of Ewa, hidden away from the standard hiking trails preferred by the tourists. He took a few moments to scan the scene. A few HPD officers were milling around the site where the body was found, a remote spot nowhere near the standard hiking trail that wound through the national park. They were in a very secluded spot on the large cliff face, overlooking a mini-canopy of lush green foliage below. The wind whipped past the leaves of the tress, making a ghostly rustling sound.

Ominous storm clouds loomed overhead, which meant they only had a limited window of time before the afternoon rain came down and washed the evidence away.

“Any idea who we’re looking at?” Steve queried as he stood up.

“A regular Jane Doe,” Duke answered. “No identification on her. She was found naked just like that.”

The lead detective made a noncommittal sound. “Who discovered the body?”

“A Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, Steve. Chin’s asking them some questions over there.” He indicated towards a relatively clear section of the forest, where the lead detective could see the portly figure of the detective questioning a very shocked man and woman. He crossed over to the Oriental detective and caught the tail end of the woman’s rant as she sobbed into her husband’s shoulder, clearly distressed.

“…We had heard that this is a most beautiful spot on Oahu,” she sobbed, “oh how could…oh that poor girl, ohh…” the rest of her anguished sobs were muffled against his shirt as she buried her face there.

“Mrs. Edwards, please calm down,” Chin pleaded, before looking at Steve.

Mr. Edwards looked at the detectives earnestly, before starting to comfort his wife, who then wrapped her arms around him. He placed a gentle kiss in her hair, making soft shushing sounds as he asked her not to cry.

“I apologize, now is not the best time,” the man said, “I need to take my wife back to the hotel.”

Steve nodded his head in understanding. “Take her back first, then can you come by HPD to give a formal statement later this afternoon?”

Mr. Edwards hesitated for a few moments before nodding his head. He wrapped an arm around his distraught wife’s shoulder and began to guide her past the dense foliage back onto the main path. 

Steve watched their retreating backs before he turned back to the scene of the cliff precipice, He wasn’t able to see the canopy of trees below but he could see the gently rolling hills surrounding them. Danny was out there somewhere waiting to be found, and as soon as he solved this case, he could give more time to searching for the missing detective. It had been a week since the second-in-command’s disappeared, since Steve’s cop instincts told him that something was horribly wrong.

He had learned to trust his gut instinct no matter what, and it was telling him to hurry for time was running out. 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The door opened with a loud creak on long rusty hinges. Danny’s eyes snapped open and with great effort he pushed himself into an upright position, each movement slow and heavy limbed. It certainly felt like he had been asleep for the longest time, but he had no way to tell. There wasn’t a clock anywhere, and his watch had been smashed when he landed on the floor. He grimaced; his bones ached at having spent most of his time lying on the hard, musty stone floor. Anything was better than that horrible mattress over there. It may have been his imagination the blood on there was not quite dry. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of the reality that this man had done this before, and had managed to escape the scrutiny of the law.

It made the man all the more dangerous and deadly.

He slowly retreated to the far corner of the room, as far away as possible from the masked madman. For the last three beatings, Danny had been searching for some way of indentifying the man as his body was abused and broken, a rain of fierce punches and violent words tearing the monotony of the otherwise sterling silence. He couldn’t hear any sound otherwise, which indicated that he was in some sort of padded room under the main house. His back hit the wall and he winced as it connected hard with the cool damp wall. He kept his blue eyes trained on the man at the door, and the round package wrapped under his arm in brown paper and string. 

“Hello aikane,” he greeted softly, a predatory grin appearing on his face. It made the second-in-command’s blood run cold. Goosebumps appeared on his mottled bruised skin, because that was the very same smile that appeared at times the young detective recognized that he was in deep trouble.

“I’m not your aikane!” Danny tried to say, but what came out was more like a gurgle and a soft hiss; the last time they had spent time together, Danny’s neck had been wrung until stars exploded behind his eyes as the darkness loomed at the corner, threatening to pull him under. He was sure that there were nasty hand-shaped bruises there at the moment; he was willing to put good money on it. The young detective glared at the man across the room.

His captor laughed gently, his eyes shining out behind the thick leather of his mask, taking a few moments to admire the sight of the bloodied and badly hurt man opposite him. He walked over to where Dan was propped up against the wall, before leaning right into the injured man’s personal space. His captor was close enough that Dan could smell the stench of tobacco and something sour on his breath. The detective tried to move his head to the side but a firm hand snaked out and clamped firmly under his chin, digging into the bruises he had no doubt were there. His fingers dug deeply into the detective’s jaw such that he could help the gasp of pain as the grip got tighter, before he found his head being twisted side to side, before they locked eyes. Dan took a deep breath and tried to quash the note of fear threading steadily up as that hand moved to cup his left cheek, to avoid the gash marring the other one.

“You are so beautiful the way you are. I just couldn’t resist buying this for you.” Danny could only watch as the round packaged was plopped in front of him, before string and brown wrapping paper gave way to smooth glass and metal, “I know you will like it.”

The thing was deposited into Danny’s shaking hands, and he came very close to crying right there, as his shoulder’s began to tremble and he tried desperately to blink back the stinging in his eyes. Now he would be able to count every second, every hour and day that he was trapped here.  A testament to the fact that Steve was failing to save him, when he needed it the most.

He didn’t even fight back when the sadist put his arms around Danny and pulled him into an embrace that was meant to be comforting. It didn’t take much more before fat, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks and he felt something inside him shatter to pieces.

 


End file.
